


Waiting

by spikesgirl58



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E.
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-25
Updated: 2014-01-25
Packaged: 2018-01-10 01:09:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1152996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spikesgirl58/pseuds/spikesgirl58
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's what a partner does best.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waiting

Watching and waiting, it seemed like that was all he did.  Hunkered down in a cut in the cliff face, he watched and waited.  Watched for a sign of his partner and waited for his communicator to signal the completion of the mission. 

The day was hot and dry, so dry he could smell it, define the faint aroma of dust.  He could taste it, harsh and unrelenting on his tongue, coating his teeth with an unpleasant taste.

Brittle yellow aspen leaves rattled in the wind, clacking like bizarre castanets.    Insects whirred and birds offered lusty challenges to each other, determined to define their territory no matter what.  Birds were funny that way.

Even the shade was hot and unrelenting.  He was sweating, but it never had a chance to form on his skin, evaporating the second it appeared.

He reached for his canteen and gave it a shake.   Hearing the water slosh was reassuring, but even so, he knew he’d have to break cover at nightfall and go look for more.

And still he waited.

He watched the morning sun climb to its zenith and seem to hang there forever.  He shook his watch, hoping beyond hope that it had stopped.  It hadn’t.  The second hand marched mercilessly on and he sighed.

At one, he dug through his knapsack and found a chocolate, turned white with age and mushy from the heat.  He licked the wrapping absentmindedly and kept his eye on the horizon.  The taste of the chocolate was waxy, coating his mouth and tongue in an unpleasant way.  He reminded himself he was eating it for energy and nothing else.  Taste didn’t matter, texture didn’t matter, nothing mattered as long as he kept waiting.

Too hot, now even the birds had quieted, seeking out a cooler spot, or rather, a less hot spot; there was no cool here.  The insects too had been beaten into submission and silenced their buzzing.

For a second, he broke from his shade and looked up at the sun, but it was so strong, he immediately closed his eyes, the sun painting his eyelids a scarlet blotch against its brilliance.  He retreated back to the shade and waited for his eyes to refocus, to grow all seeing again.  Guiltily, he glanced back to the horizon, wondering if he’d missed anything.  

His hand itched to use his communicator.  Just a word, a signal, something to indicate he wasn’t the only living thing in this place.

His back and legs ached from being in one spot, one position too long, but he still didn’t move any more than he had to, fearful that if he stopped watching, even for a moment, it would be too late.  He’d miss something.

And still the afternoon dragged on, until even the breeze, as hot and unrelenting as the day, finally surrendered.  He watched the heat shimmer up from the ground, making the air waver before his eyes.

He swore his skin was cracking and peeling, but running a hand over his jaw exposed nothing except a growth of beard.  Yet he remained, watching and waiting.

The shadows were starting to lengthen and turn a softer, more comforting blue and his mind whirred with possibilities.  Did he break cover and go looking for his partner?  Did he stay here, as he had been instructed?  Did he even dare attempt to contact someone, knowing that it would be a beacon back to their hiding spot?

Then a splash of white moved in the distance, slow and halting, but ever advancing towards him.  Grabbing the binoculars, he was relieved to see details, concerned at the stain of red against the white.  Still, if he was moving, it must be okay.  In spite of his relief, he stayed put.  He checked the horizon for any pursuing enemy agents, checked his knapsack for the ever present first aid kit, and verified the amount of water still in the canteen.

A hundred yards away, he could stand it no more and moved from his spot, through the brush to his partner’s side.

“Finally.”

“Sorry, had a disagreement with some guys who thought I should stay.”

“I thought that maybe you’d tossed me aside for another party.”  He offered the canteen.

“I wouldn’t do that.”  The canteen was taken with a trembling hand.

“You have before.”    He didn’t ask about the mission for the moment it didn’t matter.  All that mattered was standing in front of him, his partner, his friend, his world.

Their casual banter reassured them and, wrapping a helping arm about each other’s waist, the partners moved back into the shadows, away from the harsh glare of the retreating sun and into the comforting dark of the encroaching night.


End file.
